


Fighting Talk

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Getting Together (for Fareeha and Angela), Polyamory, pro wrestling AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Pro wrestler Angela is told she's turning heel, and her rival will be Fareeha. She's not really sure why that bothers her so much.





	Fighting Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [@youraveragejoke's](https://twitter.com/youraveragejoke/) wrestling AU: [It's so so good](https://twitter.com/youraveragejoke/status/1156087128448753664?s=21) [please check it out!](https://twitter.com/youraveragejoke/status/1163217478404771841?s=21)

“You’re going to turn heel.”

Angela blinks. This doesn’t quite feel like reality. Not the least because Olivia’s office doubles as a set for promos and dramatic fight intros. Angela’s seen countless clips of the cheap cloth chair she’s sitting in now getting thrown into the wall Lacroix is leaning on by belligerent wrestling heels. 

Heels like her now, apparently. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Angela says carefully. “Mei and I have been a tag team for forever, and me being a heel… doesn’t work for that.”

“We won’t pit you against Mei, don’t worry.” Olivia fiddles with the cuffs of her blazer. She’s watching Angela carefully. “Mei’s a real sweetheart. We probably won’t even have her be mad at you. But the tag team– there just wasn’t much interest there. Too boring.”

Out of insecurity or instinct, Angela swivels to check Lacroix’s reaction. She wears an expression that very well could have been a smirk, but very much isn’t now, and Angela gives up. Olivia continues. 

“Your bout with Amari, though– that got a lot of interest.” Angela sits up, her eyes wide. “And her pinning you, after how long and drawn out your fight was– I think we can really do something there. We set you two up as rivals. Have you be super bitter about your loss, want revenge. Boom.” Olivia snaps her fingers. “We can milk that for at least three seasons, easy.”

“Amari,” Angela echoes. Lacroix nods and pushes off the wall. 

“We’re setting up a whole throughline,” Lacroix says. “I’m planning on ousting Olivia as commissioner.” Olivia chuckles and Lacroix smiles fondly down at her. “I’m trying to take over her empire. You’ll be part of my conspiracy, Amari will be the hero, trying to stop us. And we might come up with some backstory of you having gone to jail for insider trading or something. We’re still workshopping things.”

“Fareeha’s my friend,” Angela says. “We’re not rivals.” 

Lacroix just shrugs. “You and she can be whatever you want. But inside the ring, we’d like it if you hated each other.”

Lacroix’s gum smacks against her teeth as she talks. It’s a pale pink bubblegum when she’s in the ring. It transforms the habit from an attempt to quit smoking, into an affectation that sells her as Olivia’s shallow, obnoxious wife. It also makes her incredibly annoying to talk to. Angela thinks about spending years even pretending to be on her team and gives Olivia and Lacroix a strained smile. 

“I don’t have any options here, do I?”

Olivia and Lacroix glance at each other. “We still hadn’t landed on your new persona,” Olivia says. “So uh. If you want to help us pick.”

She grabs a small stack of portfolio folders and pushes them across the desk to Angela. Angela looks through them, trying to argue her heart out of its sinking feeling. This is something every pro wrestler knows they might need to do. Olivia already assured her that she wouldn’t have to fight her girlfriend, and their tag team matches had been dwindling anyway. And it’ll net Angela a lot more visibility. Probably a higher paycheck too. 

But it’s just something about looking through these costumes– all sleek lines and dark colors, so different from the drapes and muted tones of her goddess costume. And the little artist’s rendition in the corner of one. She’s fighting Fareeha Amari in it. Amari’s yelling something at her, and Angela’s sneering back. Angela remembers her last, real interaction with Fareeha– a friendly chat before the match where Fareeha complimented Mei’s slippers, a hug after the match that Angela thought about for entirely too long. Is still thinking about, apparently. 

Angela sighes and pushes one of the folders back towards the two women. 

“I guess I’m the Winged Devil now.”

-

“So they’re splitting up our tag team?!”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, we won’t have to fight each other.” Mei looks a little less concerned, but not much. Angela shoves the bowl of fruit they’re sharing towards her, like that will solve things. “Olivia says you’re too much of a sweetheart to turn on me,” Angela explains. “So you’ll keep telling me you know I’m a good person, deep down. And they’re going to keep us from getting paired off.”

Mei reluctantly nods and takes a strawberry. “That was nice of her, I guess.”

“It’s for the network, not for us.”

Mei takes a little bite of the strawberry. Angela resists the urge to tell her for the upteenth time how cute she is. “No,” Mei says, when she’s politely finished chewing her teensy mouthful. “Even if she did just do it for the network, she didn’t have to tell you. She told you so you wouldn’t worry, Angela.”

“Maybe.” Angela draws her knees up to her chest. She’s not exactly ready to give Olivia credit for anything right now. 

Mei is watching her with a worried frown. Angela suddenly feels a new kind of bad, that her moping is making her girlfriend worry. She quickly kisses Mei’s cheek. 

“I’m fine,” Angela tells her. “Really. It’s just… not what I would have chosen, if I had the choice.”

Mei nods. “I thought we had a cool thing going. Winged Victory and Luna, I liked our witchy thing–“

“So did I! And now I’m not going to be able to wear those cute shoes anymore!” Mei pats her back sympathetically. “And the worst part is them making Fareeha my rival. Like I know we’re both professionals, but still, I don’t want to you know? Like, why did it have to be her?”

Mei raises an eyebrow. Angela remembers her last interaction with Fareeha Amari again. She sighs. 

“That’s not what I was saying.”

“Well I’m just saying. If you wanted to ask her out–“

“I’m not going to.”

“–I would not in any way be opposed,” Mei finishes, as though Angela hadn’t said a word. “She’s a good friend, and she’s really pretty. I think you two would be great together.”

“Thanks, love.” Angela leans up and kisses Mei. “I just don’t think she would be interested,” Angela admits. 

“You don’t know that she isn’t though, right? You kind of need to ask her to know that.”

“But with everything else going on now, and us having to sell these new personas–“ Angela runs her fingers through her hair. Mei hums sympathetically.

“I think it’s still worth a shot,” she says gently. “And to be honest, I thought she seemed kind of interested when we were talking with her.”

“I’ll think about it,” Angela says. Mei sighs and holds out a strawberry. Angela eats it from between her fingers in one bite. 

-

She runs into Fareeha at the gym and the second Angela sees her, she knows Fareeha’s been told too. For a woman in such a performative profession, Fareeha’s guilty smile and sympathetic eyes make it clear she can’t keep much off her face. 

“So we hate each other now?” Angela says, climbing onto the elliptical next to Fareeha. Fareeha laughs, a little out of breath. 

“Not until primetime next week.”

“Oh, phew. I was worried.” Fareeha laughs again. Angela glances sideways at the LED screen on Fareeha’s machine. Fareeha has three minutes left in her workout. She’s suddenly anxious, even though she didn’t have anything she needed to talk to Fareeha about. 

As Angela faces forward again, her eyes sweep across Fareeha’s chest and abs.  _ Nothing we needed to talk about _ , Angela reminds herself firmly. 

“So I know it’s not something you had a choice in,” Fareeha says. Angela snaps her head back towards her, maintaining eye contact. “But I was disappointed when I found out you were going to be my rival for this next arc. Especially after that last fight. I thought you, me, and Mei had good chemistry, you know?”

Angela slows. The machine beeps at her. “Huh?”

“You know. In the ring, fighting–“

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I thought so too!” 

Fareeha isn’t looking at her anymore and is running faster than she needs to and Angela curses herself, for letting her stupid crush get in the way of a now-preciously rare friendly conversation. 

“You could probably fight with Mei, if you wanted,” Angela says, desperate to move on. “She and I were talking and she’s going to try to partner with Satya now, but I’m sure they could work your storylines together?”

Fareeha’s machine chimes and she slows to a cooldown pace. “Yeah, that uh– I was wondering.” She rubs the back of her neck. “I saw Mei and Satya in the gym the other day, and I know you and Mei are dating, but uh–“

“Yeah,” Angela says quickly. “We’re open, don’t worry.”

“Okay, good. That was– super worried I was going to be giving you a real reason to punch me out next week–“

“Ha, no, we’re good, don’t worry!”

“Okay, good!”

They both fall silent. Fareeha moves at a leisurely walk, Angela jogs up an imaginary incline. 

“I need to do weights,” Fareeha says suddenly. Angela nods. “But just wanted to say– it’s not the way I wanted to fight with you, but you’re a good wrestler. So I know fighting with you is going to be fun no matter what.”

She steps down from her elliptical and pats Angela on the shoulder as she walks by. Angela slows to a crawl. The machine beeps angrily at her. 

_ It’s good sportsmanship, _ Angela tells herself as she fishes her headphones out of her pocket.  _ Fareeha’s a really good sport. She was just trying to reassure you.  _

A traitorous whisper in her mind, one that sounds a lot like Mei, asks her why Fareeha asked about Satya, if she didn’t want to tell Angela about adultery. What answer had she been hoping for?

Angela stubbornly turns the volume on the TV up, and turns her brain off. 

-

Before their match, Fareeha brings stops by her dressing room. 

“Not here to sabotage, I promise,” Fareeha says, holding her hands up. Angela smiles. Fareeha’s going to win. There’s nothing for her to even sabotage. 

“Here to tap out early?” Angela says. She turns back to the mirror and fidgets with the brushes in front of her, even though hair and makeup have already done their job. She’s afraid to blink with these false lashes, much less adjust them. 

In the mirror, she sees Fareeha shake her head. “I wanted to wish you good luck,” she says. Angela gives her a bemused look. 

“I don’t think luck has much to do with.”

“No,” Fareeha says. “I guess not.” She smiles sheepishly and waves. “See you in the ring.”

Angela sits in her chair and stares at herself in the mirror. She’s all smoky eyes and hairspray and red spandex. If she spins around, she’ll be able to see the one part of the costume she kind of likes– the devil wings drawn on her bare back. 

She’s way too nervous for a fight with a predetermined outcome. She doesn’t know why. She wonders if this is why Fareeha came to wish her luck. 

If Fareeha is nervous, she doesn’t show it when as she enters the ring. Her signature swagger is present. The kids in the audience who she high fives look like they’re never going to wash their hands again. Fareeha yanks the microphone at the center of the ring and points to Angela, still in the shadows. 

“Something’s rotten in this league,” Fareeha says, casting her gaze around the ring. The crowd gasps. “Someone’s not playing fair. And I don’t know who it is yet, or why. But I will. And when I do, I’ll bring ‘em to justice.”

The crowd cheers. Angela saunters up to the microphone, and the stadium hushes. She locks eyes with Fareeha as she grabs the mic and Fareeha’s a professional, she doesn’t break, but Angela’s still comforted by the look in her eyes. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be messing with things you don’t understand,” Angela sneers. “If you go home and keep quiet, maybe you won’t get hurt.”

“Make me!” Fareeha yells. She pulls off her bright blue jacket and throws it to the floor. Angela grins. 

“With pleasure.”

The fight is the easy part, because Angela knows how to do this. Not just the choreography, though they’ve certainly gone over that. It’s the movement of her body. The performance. Getting away from all her anxiety and overthinking and being able to focus solely on moving her legs into a wider stance, grimacing and snarling for the camera, how she can feel Fareeha’s muscles flex under her fingers. She can lose herself. She doesn’t have to think.

She certainly isn’t thinking when Fareeha pins her. Because then, when she looks up and sees Fareeha’s wide eyes, Angela’s kissing her before she even knows it. Fareeha jerks a little in surprise. But she must not be thinking too much either. Because she’s kissing her back.

It’s only when they break apart that they realize how quiet the stadium is. The referee that ran over the count Angela out is just standing there awkwardly. Then the sound of a bell peels over the loudspeakers. Angela and Fareeha both blink and, almost in unison, give each other guilty smiles.

Sounds like the fight’s over.

-

“Well,” Lacroix says. “You certainly fucked us over.”

Angela looks to Olivia. Normally she tries to maintain some semblance of businesslike neutrality in these negotiations. But Olivia is keeping her eyes firmly locked on her desk’s surface. Which, to be honest, is fair. Lacroix isn’t wrong. 

“I really didn’t plan to,” Angela says. “It just… happened.”

“I don’t know if it makes things better or worse, that you did it thoughtlessly.” Lacroix sighs and leans against the desk. “I hope it was worth it.”

Angela doesn’t say anything. But it was. She and Fareeha had talked after the fight. She had assured Fareeha that Mei was okay with this. Fareeha assured Angela that she had been okay with the kiss. Fareeha had kissed her on the cheek when they said goodbye, having made plans to get dinner Saturday. The whole thing had left Angela with a giddy sense of possibility that even this meeting can’t shake, that even Lacroix can’t make her feel guilty for. 

“We think we’ve worked something out, though,” Olivia says. For the first time since Angela had walked in, Olivia was actually looking at her. “We’re going to have your redemption arc be… really short, I guess. Falling in love with Fareeha–“

“We haven’t even gone out on a date yet.”

Olivia and Lacroix stare at her with staggered disbelief. Angela sinks down a little in her seat. 

“As I was saying,” Olivia says. “Your love of Fareeha saves you. And you’re the one who tells her about Amélie’s coup. You two work together to try to take her down. We’ll get Amélie someone else to be her lackey. Satya Vaswani would work well, I think.”

“And I much prefer working with Satya anyway.” Lacroix glances over at Angela. “I’d apologize, but you did just tear up an entire season of scripts we had ready, so…”

Angela did just nearly ruin their show. And Olivia and Lacroix did just give her a way to work alongside Fareeha. So she doesn’t tell them how Satya might not be the perfect solution they’re dreaming of. She just smiles and says, “Understandable.”

She knows how to pick her fights. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world <3


End file.
